Misery Loves Company
by Strange.x.And.x.Beautiful
Summary: "He wonders what her lips would be like to nibble before he killed her." Damon's found himself a potential victim in a bar but she's not his usual type. First, she doesn't throw herself at him and second she doesn't fall for his pretty boy charm DxOC


Misery Loves Company

**So, this is my first Vampire Diaries story, I hope it's worthy. Usual disclaimers apply, the undeniably sexy Damon Salvatore is not mine, he belongs to L.J. Smith and whoever owns the rights to the TV series. If I could own Ian Somerhalder who plays him I would be one lucky woman but, sadly this is not the case.**

**I'm really hoping i've got Damon IC, yeah he's a bad boy but we all know he's human deep down, that's why I have him questioning himself a bit in this fic. I would be grateful if you'd let me know if it's ok or if i've epically failed, constructive criticism is appriciated.**

**Anyway must stop rambling so you can start reading, I hope you enjoy.**

Damon's been at the bar ten minutes now and the urge to rip someone's throat out is reaching the limit. He makes eye contact again with a brunette who's giving him those 'come to bed' eyes since he got here and considers calling it a night and taking her home as a midnight snack. He sips his bourbon to curb the hunger and looks away thinking about how this woman's hair is the same colour as Elena's. It's then he gets nudged by a petite blonde with her hair tied back and dressed all in black.

"Triple shot of Jack, please" she tells the barman without apologising to Damon. She puts down a ten dollar bill on the counter and once her drink is served she gulps it in one. Damon looks over at her mildly impressed; he thinks to himself she must be a party girl, they're the best kind of girl, easy to seduce, not that he has many problems in that department.

"Want another?" he drawls, looking at her a little bit more. She has dark green eyes, emphasized by lots of black make up around them and plump red lipsticked lips. He wonders what they'd be like to nibble before he kills her.

"Not interested." She replies looking straight ahead at the bottles of alcohol as she rolls the empty tumbler between her palms.

"You're not interested in another drink? Ok, fair enough, your loss." The bartender comes back and Damon orders two triple Jack Daniels, then without saying a word he slides one over to her elbow.

"Thanks, but I'm still not interested." She doesn't pass the glass back but once again she drains the beverage in one gulp and doesn't grit her teeth from the aftertaste. Damon smirks; she's his kind of woman.

"What makes you think I'm interested in you?" He sips his drink at a slower pace; he's enjoying watching her knocking back liqueur like it's going out of fashion.

"I saw you in here a couple of days ago picking up girls. I thought I'd let you know upfront that you won't be picking me up tonight. So, go try it on with some other girl, like the brunette to my left, three stools down, she seems nauseatingly keen."

"I'm flattered you've already chosen me a potential lay and honestly, I was considering her before you came along, but now you're here I've reconsidered. I like a challenge, especially one that gets herself drunk without any influence from me."

She calls the bartender over again and orders four tequila shots with lemon and salt. Damon finishes his drink and turns to study her properly. She accidentally looks into his cobalt coloured eyes and takes a deep breath at how intense they are, she sees him smirk and quickly lowers her gaze to the counter.

"Here." She pushes over two of the shots to Damon making sure she looks no higher than his chest. "This doesn't mean I'm interested or that you have any chance with me, I'm just returning the sentiment."

He chuckles and knocks back the shots without saying a word, he watches her do the same out of the corner of his eye. As Damon finishes with the salt and lemon he realises that he likes her, well, as much as he could like any human. She's very different from the rest of the women he meets, straightforward when she talks but her eye contact is very evasive, a sure sign she's cripplingly shy.

A table becomes available in the corner so she makes a beeline towards it without consulting him, Damon follows without being invited, he has a feeling she won't mind his company as much as she says she doesn't want it. She hasn't ordered anymore to drink for the time being but Damon notices her pupils have become rather dilated, the drink is hitting her more than she's letting on.

"How comes I've never seen you before?" he asks after they're settled and the lack of conversation becomes a little too uncomfortable.

"You haven't been looking hard enough." She states with an almost grin as she looks over to the bar to avoid looking at him at any cost.

"I'll give you that one. But how long have you been coming here? I'm sure I would've noticed a drinker like you before."

"Only two weeks, not long." She fiddles with her fingerless black gloves as if she has nothing to do without an alcoholic beverage in her hand.

"Right. Has it been every day or just on the weekends?"

"Do I look like someone who comes to a bar every day? No, I don't. But I suppose it depends."

"I think you'll find alcoholics, manic depressives and lonely people would be the ones you'd find in bars on a daily basis, but interesting, if you don't label yourself as one of them, what do your visits depend on?"

"It's none of your business, although your reason is crystal clear, lonely much?"

He frowns; the frosty ice queen act is starting to get boring now. He's about to push the subject when she gets up from her seat and totters back over to the bar. He spies that she orders a double vodka. She knocks that back, and then orders another to return to the table with.

"No drink for me? Where'd you learn your manners?" Damon's watched her wobble back, he's amazed she hasn't fallen over yet; she can certainly handle her drink better than most, but only just.

"You didn't ask." She sips the liquid this time, it isn't as urgent as before, the fuzzy feeling has already taken hold of her.

"To make up to me you could at least tell me your name." Damon's giving her his oh-so-charming smile; he doesn't want to resort to compelling this woman (yet).

"What's the point in that? You'll only forget it as soon as I walk out of here."

She has him there, there's only one real name worth remembering and that is Elena. Unfortunately for Damon she is snuggled up on the sofa watching old movies with Stefan which is the reason he's come out for a drink and a snack. What Elena doesn't know can't hurt her when it comes to his renewed diet of fresh human blood.

"Have you always been this annoying?" he leans his head onto his propped up hand.

"Have you always been this cocky?" she swirls the vodka with her finger and licks it once she's pulled it out the glass. She's annoying and a tease Damon thinks to himself.

"If I can guess your name will you co-operate with me?"

She gives him a lopsided grin as she quickly makes eye contact and nods; she's pretty sure he won't guess her name. No one in their right mind would come out with Farrah on their first guess.

Damon smirks, looks straight into her eyes and compels her.

"What is your name?"

"Farrah Jacobs."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two"

"You will forget this now."

"I will forget this now."

He blinks, as does she. Farrah looks down then puts the tumbler to her lips again to polish off the rest of her drink.

"So, I'm guessing your name is Farrah. You definitely look like a Farrah, not that I know many, but it suits you." Damon says confidently with the smuggest looking smirk he can pull off. "And I predict you're about twenty-two, your birthday being about a month or so ago."

"How did you know?" She's aghast, he's either a mind reader or a stalker, and she isn't sure which, the rational part of her says the latter.

"I think you agreed to co-operate if I guessed your name, so the questions are all mine."

"Why do you want to know about me, I'm no one special?"

It's a pretty good question if Damon thinks about it properly, why does he want to know? He doesn't care about any one or anything, so why is this tiny little blonde so interesting to him, why is he curious? Why hasn't he left to pursue someone else yet, she's not going to give it up any time soon.

"What's with the drinking?" he finds himself automatically asking.

"What do you mean?" Farrah won't look at him; her eyes are glued to the table as her hands have been withdrawn to her lap.

"If you were drinking to have a good time you would've come with people or started seducing me already. You're doing neither, your drinking for the sake of getting hammered, why?"

"It numbs the pain." She replies quietly. She grabs her bag and tries to walk away but she stumbles and Damon immediately catches her from the floor, he's the closest he has been all night and she smells good but he's not going in for the kill yet. He wants to know why she's like this.

He leads her outside for some fresh air and in to an alley. Passers by won't be surprised by his behaviour they'll just assume he's pulled another floozy of Mystic Falls, but he's not brought her here to take advantage, they're here so they can be undisturbed. Damon's not sure if he's going to kill her yet, that's never happened before, does he care enough to let her live?

Farrah immediately sits with her back against the wall and puts her head between her legs, the scenery is spinning and she feels nauseous. She thinks she should've kept on drinking till it all went black; at least she wouldn't feel this bad till tomorrow morning at the earliest.

"What pain?" Damon picks up from where they left off; he's kneeling in front of her all concerned for her wellbeing. Should he care so much? No, he shouldn't, but he finds that he is. Farrah groans as she tries to push him off her shoulders where he's keeping her upright and steady.

"My sister's husband." She responds, muffled by her legs "I'm in love with him, have been for years. We were all childhood friends but he fell in love with her and they finally got married two weeks ago." He can hear her crying although he doesn't think she wants him to hear. "There's no hope for me now, even though there was no hope to begin with. I've just gotta smile and pretend my feelings aren't there like I have done for the last ten years, it kills me, but she's my sister and she's so much better for him then I ever can be. The drinking blocks out the memories, it blocks him out, almost."

Damon starts laughing, he can't stop himself. The irony of it all is too much. If it's possible he's found the female version of himself, she's probably nowhere near as deeply flawed as he is but she's in the same place he is at the moment; they're both in love with their sibling's partners. Maybe he should do her a favour, kill her and put her out of her misery he thinks maliciously; he wishes someone would do that for him sometimes. He calms down after a minute or so and catches Farrah staring at him with a mild look of horror on her face.

"That's crap. I mean, I know how totally crap that situation is. You and me Farrah, we're not very different. You're pining over your brother-in-law and I'm - whatever, with my brother's girlfriend who, coincidentally is a doppelganger of my ex girlfriend. It's a long story, but, the bottom line is, love sucks, doesn't it?"

Farrah's about to respond but Damon doesn't give her time to reply, he just pulls her up and pins her against the wall as he kisses her with ferocity. She tries to push him away for a couple of seconds but just gives up and enjoys it, the nausea is abating for now and she's got to admit that he is an extremely good kisser. Her hands find her way into his hair and his tongue is thrust into her mouth with no permission whatsoever.

Damon's hands make their way up from her hips, to her neck, then to the sides of her head. He softly bites Farrah's bottom lip and she gives out a groan as his lips move from hers to trace a path from her cheek, to her ear lobe, then to the base of her neck. Before he knows it his features change and his teeth graze her skin before sinking in deep, cutting through flesh, muscle and tendons. The blood instantly wells up around the bite and Damon drinks quickly, her blood is tainted by the alcohol but it's too addictive to stop, the saltiness and the liqueur blend together so nicely. Farrah doesn't feel any pain; she's too drunk to notice, she blames the wooziness on the alcohol not her unknown blood loss; the emotional pain she had is completely numb, barely there at all for the moment. She smiles and closes her eyes.

Damon finishes sucking the life out of her and drops the now limp body to the ground while his features return to their normal form. Although he now feels physically full, he still feels empty inside. He'd liked Farrah, but it wasn't enough to stop him from killing her. He'd killed her out of hunger but maybe deep down out of pity. Sure, she could've moved on with a new guy, but she wouldn't have put her heart into it, not if she loved her brother-in-law like he did Elena.

He wonders, if he'd left her alive would she have turned out the way he was building her up to be, some sort of a kindred spirit, another lost soul with an unrequited heart? Maybe she would've, maybe she wouldn't, there's no point dwelling on it now.

Damon wipes the blood and lipstick from his mouth with his cuff and picks Farrah's body up in one swoop and makes his way to the outskirts of Mystic Falls where he's buried many a body. He digs up the dirt in record time and dumps her in the ground carelessly. Before he fills the hole he can't help but sneak one last look at her. Farrah's hair has come out of its ponytail and is splayed on the base of the makeshift grave, her eyes are closed, the eyeliner and shadow is smudged and streaked and the lipstick has rubbed off from their make out session. She's pretty, the make up wasn't needed; she would've caught his attention sooner if she'd been a little more outgoing. With that, he covers her up with dirt and goes back to the bar to find another snack, he feels a lot emptier than before he'd started the night.

The carousel of women continues till the bar closes but instead Damon drinks moodily alone at the counter, refusing to talk to them. His urge to kill has been satisfied but he doesn't feel any better for it, he just feels worse, less human than he's ever been.

He doesn't want to, but he remembers Farrah's name a lot longer than he intends to, months after he's killed her. She crops up in his thoughts from time to time making him feel a small amount of guilt which has never happened for this long before, Damon knows he made the wrong decision that night but that's who he is, a wrong decision maker. There have been a lot of wrong decisions he's had to live with before then so this one is just another that will dog him forever. He shouldn't be ok with that but he is.

When the news about Farrah's death was made public he was questioned by his brother as soon as her face was posted on the news. Damon denies all knowledge of it, he was at the bar all night, the bartender can vouch for him (only because he compelled the guy, but like he'd tell St. Stefan that). They are suspicious for a while but drop it because they have no proof and he swore he was on the chilled stuff. In reality he was on it for a few days afterwards and then went back to the fresh stuff. Nobody knew anything about that night but him.

Its six months later and Damon's sulking alone in the living room while Stefan lies next to Elena as she sleeps upstairs. He raises his glass and mutters 'Farrah, I hope I stopped the pain' and wallows in his misery for the rest of the night. It's then he wishes he hadn't killed her because he could do with her annoyingness and her drinking, they could've wallowed together. He can't take it back, none of it; he's as heartless as he always has been.

He's got no company in his misery and never will.

**Reviews are love :)**

**P.S. The ending is lame, i know. I hate the way I finish my stories, you think i'd have learned how to do it properly by now...**


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